Completed puzzles are framed around the room,

proudly displaying their superiority,

making everyone look up to them.

Incompleted puzzles lay, only missing a piece or two,

They are still open, still searching for new pieces.

Sports, spaceships, and pastel colors, there is true diversity.

Yet there are still lone pieces laying in corners,

forgotten, they have no one to connect with.

They're too different, society says,

find somewhere else, they are told.

But they can't fit anywhere,

rainbows, animals, and black don't fit in any puzzles,

so they just scatter.

Might as well give up, they say to themselves,

It's okay to be alone, they claim.

They sit and just collect dust, their colors becoming concealed,

they still deny their lonliness,

but it's common sense, pieces of puzzles are meant to connect.